


share the shelter of my single bed

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Point is, Michael's super fucking happy with the way his life is turning out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	share the shelter of my single bed

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://41.media.tumblr.com/2a61fdcfb48149f0c3524e34f4b6b1fd/tumblr_nn6e75VDpb1racgbwo1_1280.jpg) nice transcript, but don't ask me how that made me write a pregnancy fic

So, for as long as Michael has known Tom, he's been a dreamer. You can't blame him though - he's young and he's got so much ahead for him in his career. Sometimes, well, it can get a little awkward.

"When we finally get a house, I want like, a huge backyard so the kids can run around and stuff," Tom's saying, clearly daydreaming. They're watching an HGTV series. Michael just hums in response, because their future isn't really his favourite thing to discuss. Tom's stuck in this world where trades and breakups don't exist. While a small part of Michael really hopes this won't happen, he also isn't naive. 

And it's not like they're having kids anytime soon, so Tom will obviously get tired of Michael and find someone hotter. Everyone knows this.

"Hey, no games for two days," Michael says, noticing Tom getting distracted by his hand rubbing his thigh. "You wanna?"

"Don't even have to ask twice, Latts," Tom smirks, reaching in for a dirty kiss.

\----  


Getting knocked out of the playoffs sucks. It's not like Michael's all that experienced, but the team has worked super hard all season and it's terrible to see all of that go to waste. 

What's worse is that Michael has had this ‘stomach bug’ for the last two games. He hasn't told anyone in fear of being scratched over a little feeling of wanting to puke sometimes, but it's only a matter of time before someone finds out.

He hadn't eaten dinner the night before because everything in the fridge had been making him nauseous, not that anyone in the apartment noticed. After Washington’s failed playoff run, everyone’s been too depressed to pay attention. He's up at 3 am, munching on a banana when he feels it. He's running to bathroom before he knows it.

The weird thing about this is though, every time he's stepping on a scale, he's _gaining weight._

He's bent over the toilet throwing up the two banana bites he had when he feels a hand on his back.

"You okay?" It's André, thank god.

"Uh, yeah. Think I might have the flu," Michael replies.

"I get you water? Stay right here," André says. Well, commands.

After Michael downs a whole bottle of water while André watches him warily, he finally breaks the silence.

"Don't tell Tom," is the first thing that comes out of Michael's mouth. He hadn't meant to say exactly that, but it's what's on his mind.

"...Okay," André says, drawing out the O. "It's late. You be okay by yourself?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm just gonna find something to eat and then knockout," Michael tries to assure him but he doesn't think André believes him. He does get up and leaves Michael alone in the bathroom to retreat to his own room, at least. 

If Michael's being honest, he knows it's not the flu. Thinking about what he's done, there's no way it's the flu. It doesn't just go away and then come back whenever it pleases. It's there all the time. Right? He's having well, pregnancy symptoms. If he thinks back to the last time he and Tom had had proper sex - it was a few weeks watching that HGTV show that gave Michael feelings - and not just getting each other off, it was on the couch, with Michael on his back and Tom hovering above him with no condom. Michael groans and immediately snaps his mouth shut, being considerate of his housemates. 

So, Michael spends the next hour lost in his thoughts and feeling sorry for himself, about the playoffs and about this dumb hunch. The clock says it's 4:03 am when he crawls back into his and Tom's bed. Tom is blinking awake slowly. 

"Where'd you go?" He asks, voice thick with sleep.

"I, uh, was hungry so I went to have a snack. I wasn't gone for that long," Michael replies quietly. "Budge over, you're in my spot."

Tom obliges, rolling over so Michael can lay down. It's warm from where Tom was occupying it and Michael breathes in his scent. Everything sucks, is the last thing he thinks before falling asleep. 

He wakes up feeling absolutely horrible, as if he had tons of shots and forgot to drink water before going to bed. He doesn't wanna get up, but he knows he's got to make an appearance before Tom comes looking. 

He makes his way out of the room, and sees André and Tom at the counter helping themselves to bacon and eggs. André notices him and smiles. 

"Hello, Latts," he says. "Are you feeling better from last night?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks for asking," Michael says, steadily. He knew André wasn't gonna let him get away with this.

Tom looks confusedly between the two of them. "What happened last night?" He asks, alarmed.

"Nothing," Michael says at the same time André tells Tom that he saw Michael puking at three o'clock in the morning. He says this in great detail not missing anything that occurred that night. Michael kind of wants to choke him.

Tom furrows his brows. "You didn't tell me you were sick,"

"I'm not, it's just a bug it'll go away soon," Michael tries to reassure Tom while glaring daggers at André who seems to think he's done nothing wrong. 

Tom's clearly unconvinced, and in fact he makes Michael skip out on the morning run insisting he rests for a while until his stomach is settled. That's not even the problem, it's the headache and the sore body that's bothering him. He accepts Tom's request though, trudging back to their room. 

As soon as Tom and André are gone he calls Wardo. 

"Yo," Wardo answers, a bit too cheery for a guy who's just been knocked out of the second round of the playoffs.

"I need you to take me to a clinic," Michael blurts instead of a greeting.

"Whoa, are you okay? Why can't Tom bring you, are you two fighting again?" Wardo asks in a rush.

Michael closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. "No, I think I might - I have the stomach flu but I need it to be confirmed."

"I'll be there in ten, then," Wardo replies and the line goes dead.

\--

"Why are you so anxious? Relax," Wardo whispers in the waiting room of the doctor's office.

"I hate being sick, if this is a thing that's not going away soon, I'm gonna be pissed," Michael says in response, and it's only a sliver away from the truth. 

"I get it but, your knee won't stop bouncing and people are-"

"Mr. Latta?" The doctor finally calls. 

"I'll be here," Wardo says, looking Michael in the eye.

"Thanks," Michael says, trying to smile, but knows it's coming out like a grimace.

He follows Dr. Gonzalez into her office and sits on the examination table. The papers crumple under him, and God everything is so loud in this quiet room. 

"So," Gonzalez starts looking at the sheet Michael filled out for the receptionist, "you said you've been experience stomach problems? Could you expand on that, please?"

"I only said that because my friend was there," Michael explains. "I know I'm pregnant, I would just like for it to be confirmed."

Gonzalez raises her brows. "How are you so sure? Are you sexually active?"

"Yeah, I uh, I live with my boyfriend, so," Michael responds a little awkwardly. 

"When's the last time you and your boyfriend had sex?"

"Around a month ago, give or take a few days. It's playoffs so, we've been busy."

"Okay, so you've been experiencing regular pregnancy symptoms? Morning sickness, tiredness, body soreness, weight gain?"

"Yep."

"Okay, we're gonna run some tests and you'll find out, soon."

"Thanks,"

"Mr. Latta, I can tell how nervous you are about this. Don't wait until last minute to tell anyone, it will only get worse."

"Uh, sure."

Man, doctors are creepy. How do they know everything? 

\--

"So," Michael sighs. "It's not the stomach flu,"

"What is it, then?" Wardo asks, looking slightly concerned. They're in the parking lot of Michael's apartment building.

"Okay, uh, if Kitt told you she was pregnant, do you think you'd be ready? Right now?"

"Definitely," Wardo replies, "I can see myself having a future with that woman. She's my light. Why are you - oh."

"Yeah," is all Michael says. He's looking anywhere but at Wardo's face.

"Are you sure?" Wardo asks.

"Well, it's just a hunch but it adds up, the last time Willy and I had sex we-"

"Slow down there, I didn't ask for details. I know how conception works." Wardo looks pained but Latts figures it just an effort to lighten the situation.

"Well, you know. So it adds up," Michael laughs nervously.

"What are you gonna do? If it's true?"

"Flee the country."

"Latts,"

"I don't know yet, I just. We're so young. Willy is so young. He just turned 21. I don't think he's gonna want this."

"I understand, but don't worry. You'll work it out. Trust me, he's not going anywhere,"

"Thanks, dude. I'll see you in two months, I guess?" Michael says, opening Wardo's door.

"Totally, go get some rest."

Michael has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He's heard that one before.

Mike takes a while in the shower, he's pretty sure this little thing is growing inside him and he's freaking out. He's 24 for God's sake. He hasn't even thought of having a family. At least not until he knows he's settled for good. He's hoping it's just a bug or something, but he knows himself well enough by now to know that he never gets sick. 

When he gets out of the shower, Tom's sitting on their bed, pretending as if he hadn’t been waiting for Michael. 

"Hey, Willy," Michael greets carefully.

"Did you have a nice nap?" Tom asks, but there's a dangerously glint in his eyes.

"Sure? I mean, sleep is sleep," is what Michael's going with.

"Wardo told me," Tom seems to rip off the bandaid pretty quickly, and Michael starts to panic.

"Tom, listen, I-" Michael starts, but doesn't know how to continue.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick enough that you needed to see a doctor?" Tom asks curiously, there's a hint of hurt in his voice.

Michael can't help but sigh of relief before realizing Tom's still looking at him, waiting for an answer. "Well, you know how you get! You worry about me too much, I just wanted to go there, no questions."

It's sort of the truth. Tom does fuss over Michael too much and sometimes it can get annoying. He gets the whole protective boyfriend thing, but man he thought it'd wear off by now.

Tom's nodding but he doesn't seem to really accept that answer. "Dry off, André's putting in one of his Swedish movies. I'll make you some soup." 

He finally leaves the room at that.

\--

When Michael comes out in new house clothes, there's a spot on the couch in between André and Tom. There's also a soup on the table which smells-- gross. Of course, he's rushing to the nearest bathroom which gives Tom and André a clear view of him covering his mouth and moving really fast. He's throwing up the bagels and coffee that him and Wardo had eaten earlier that morning, and crying because, man, this is gross. Why would anyone want to go through this twice, even three times?

After he washes his mouth twice and makes himself look decent he turns to to open the door, seeing Tom behind it and André not too far pretending to not pay attention. "Are you okay?" Tom asks. 

"Yeah, it was just the soup. It smelled bad," Michael answers.

"That's your favourite soup, though," Tom says, frowning. This is gonna be hard to keep up with that face looking at him.

"Guess not anymore. Don't worry about it, actually, I'd prefer you guys not follow my every mood just because I'm a little sick," Michael says in a rush watching Tom's face go through tons of emotions.

"You haven't eaten properly in days and you're tired all the time, what did the doctor say?" And now Tom is really in his face.

"She said she's gonna run some tests, the usual. I'm sure it's nothing though, I know myself and my body by now," Michael says. He really does.

"You can't just be, whatever about this, Latts. You're really worrying me," Tom's pouting now. Michael can't do this. He leans up to kiss Tom's lips, something he doesn't do around André. 

"I'm fine, I swear. Let's get back to this weird ass movie, yeah?" Michael jokes, getting a giggle out of André.

\--

"When are you leaving for home?" Tom asks Michael after they drop André off at the airport.

"Next week. Haven't booked a flight, though," Michael replies. What he really wants is to eat some fries and sleep forever.

"Tell me when you are, so we can take the same flight," Tom says and Michael nods.

When they get home there's a call from Dr. Gonzalez and Michael runs to their room to avoid Tom overhearing. "This is Michael," he says as he hits the answer button.

"Mr. Latta, your hunch was correct, you're indeed about eight weeks along. Congratulations," the doctor is saying cheerily but Michael's not really paying attention, more trying to slow down his heart rate. 

"Um, thank you," Michael says shakily.

"Now we have to set up an appointment to check on you, I know you're going to leave-" Michael puts the phone down to steady himself. He's feeling quite dizzy all of a sudden.

"Do you understand?" Dr. Gonzalez is concluding.

"Yes. Thank you, bye," Michael finishes hurriedly and hangs up.

He's gonna have to go home and tell his mom, his dad, and oh God, everyone is going to have to know. Worst of all, he has to tell Tom. Why is this his life?

That's when he notices Tom standing at the doorway tentatively. "Was that the doctor?"

"Yeah," Michael replies.

"What'd she say?" Tom's making his way over to sit next to Michael and he kind of wants to throw up.

"I'm eight weeks," is what Michael goes with. It's not vague but this way he doesn't have to say the ‘P’ word.

"Eight weeks, what?" Tom's face contorts trying to figure out what Michael meant. Then, like a lightbulb, his face clears up and goes white. "Are you-"

"Yeah, I suspected something was up, like I said. I know my body," Michael interrupts.

"Fuck," Tom says.

"Yeah,"

"Do you need anything? Tea?" Tom's asking. "Is tea good for the baby? Oh God what a time for this to happen." And now Tom's going hysterical, talking to himself and laughing after every sentence.

"I'm going home tomorrow. Gotta tell my family and get set up with a doctor there," Michael says.

"Okay, I mean that's not much time for me to pack but I'm ready whenever you are," Tom says, oblivious.

"No, I mean, by myself," Michael says. 

"Oh," Tom says, looking down at his feet. "Well I guess, it's your choice so-"

Michael can't stand that look on Tom's face. He surges forward, knocking Tom down on the bed and climbing on top to straddle him.

"Enough of that," Michael says. "I know I'm not in my third trimester but I'm kind of in the mood for a marathon, how about you?"

Tom grins, sitting up and placing his hand on Michael's back to flip them over.

-  
Michael lifts the arm Tom has thrown over his stomach off of him. He walks over to his drawer to pull on some sweats and a t-shirt. He's pretty sure he's making tons of noise considering he can't see anything but Tom is still dead to the world. He always seems to want to sleep for days after sex, unlike Michael who can never sleep at all, even in this tired pregnancy phase.

He's just about to leave before realizing how rude it is to not let Tom know. He pulls out a pen and writes a note:

_Hey, I caught an early flight. I'm on my way to Kitchener now, I'll see you soon._

Love, Latts

He kind of tries to run out the house with his bags before Tom realizes the spot beside him on the bed is cold.

 

\--

He gets home safely, taking a cab to his parents home. 

His mom hugs him tight, whispering a sorry in his ear and kissing his cheek. He realizes, after this whole chaotic week, he's still kinda bummed about the playoffs.

“Don't worry about it,” he says to his mom. He knows his mom was probably losing sleep over the well-being of her baby boy.

He waves at his dad who's watching last night’s Jay’s game on his TV. 

“Good! The family’s all here. Your brother was coming here for dinner, actually,” his mom says, clapping her hands.

“That's good,” Michael smiles. That's not good at all, he's gonna have to tell them all at once since they're all here tonight. What luck he has. 

His mom insists he leaves his bags at the door for his dad to collect later and well, Michael's tired as hell. He's not going to argue. 

When he goes to turn on his phone there are multiple texts from Tom.

_Thanks for letting me know where ya went. I feel like a one night stand lol is the first one._

The next one says, _wait. Are you even supposed to fly while pregnant? I heard that's bad for the baby or something_

_You're probably on the plane already and won't see this so I'll stop._

_Love u._

Michael opts out texting back and opens a new message with Roman.

_okay say you're pregnant and your boyfriend knows but like you know that's not what he wants so you're kinda avoiding him what do you do to ease this situation?_

It only takes 5 seconds for his phone to ring.

“What the hell,” is what Roman says when Michael answers. 

“I- 8 weeks,” Michael replies.

“And what, Tom's upset? I swear—“ Roman’s going on some little rant and honestly Michael has a headache.

“He didn't outright say it, but like come on. I'm definitely not his ideal life partner. It must suck to know he's stuck with me for at least another 5 years or whatever,”

“Michael, I'm sure that's not what he's thinking. He's crazy for you. He’d probably want to have ten babies with you,” Roman says exasperated. “Stop trying to read people's minds. It doesn't work.”

“I'm reading your mind right now and I'm assuming you're pissed at me,”

“Well,”

“Well,” Michael repeats.

“I'm mad because you're talking to me about this – look you're my friend so I'm honoured, but, you have a baby daddy, am I correct? He should know about how you're feeling,”

“That's awkward. What am I gonna say ‘hey Tom would you rather have a baby with a super hot model who's making millions or an untalented hockey player who’s going nowhere like me?’ Yeah no thanks,” 

“You're overthinking this, just like you did when you and Tom started sleeping together and thought he just wanted to be friends, but he didn't, right?”

“Well, yeah I guess,” Michael concedes.

“Look, I gotta go. But text me if you need me,” Roman says. 

“Bye.”

\--

“Red or white?” Michael's mom snaps him out of whatever lull he was in.

“What?”

“Red wine or white, honey,”

“Can I just have water?”

At the end of the table his brother snorts. Michael turns to look at him, questioning. 

“Nothing, bro,” he says, putting his hands up in defence.

“Leave your brother alone, he's grieving,” his mom chides.

“How's Tom doing? I know how hard he took the loss,” his dad asks.

He's right. Tom was real upset. He didn't even wanna leave his room the day after or the day after that. 

“I, uh, before that I need to tell you something,” Michael begins, feeling his heart rate speed up. “I'm…having a baby?”

Silence.

Michael clears his throat, just in case no one was actually listening. 

“You—how?” His mom is clearly stunned and he doesn't even know the expression his dad is making. Too many feelings at once.

“Well, you know Tom and I, we're, uh, dating,” Michael says awkwardly, he doesn't really wanna share the details.

“Aren't you using protection? This wasn't planned was it?”

“No, God, no, I was just as surprised as you are,” Michael rushes out. 

“Did you know about this?” His dad—his dad’s asking his brother, who's smirking like he just got away with the biggest crime. 

“Yeah, Tom told me. Well he accidentally told me,” Jim replies.

Tom can never keep his mouth shut and it's going to get him killed one day. “What do you mean ‘accidentally’?” Michael asks.

“He was just telling me to watch over you and what you eat, and not to go drinking with you, make sure you get enough rest. I asked if you were sick and he said no, I kinda just put two and two together. Also why are you avoiding him?” Jim says, and Michael's ready for his mother’s storm.

“Are you and Tom fighting? This isn't good. I know The Cup is important but so is a future grandchild with stable parents,” his mother’s saying.

“We're not fighting, I just left for home this morning without saying bye and he read into things too much,” _like me_ , Michael doesn't add.

“Call him.”

“What?”

“Call your boyfriend, now.”

“We're at dinner!”

“Michael.”

Michael sighs, but relents. He doesn't want his mom losing any hairs over this. He dials Tom's number hoping Tom's somehow not glued to his phone.

“Latts?” Tom answers.

“Uh, hey, my mom wanted me to call you,” Michael says in lieu of a greeting.

“Oh,” Tom responds. “Well I'm here.”

“Give me the phone,” his mother interrupts. Well, more like she yanks the phone from Michael's ear.

“Hi honey,” his mother says sweetly. She's smiling at whatever junk Tom's talking her up with.

“I know you're both adults but you need to be careful, it's all fun until well, a child pops up. Now, I know it feels better without—“

“Mom!” Michael hisses, red faced. “Give me my phone please.”

He can hear Tom sputtering from the other end of the line. He's probably just as red as he is. 

His mom finally gives his phone over after giving Tom and the rest of the table a lesson on contraceptives. As soon as his phone’s in his hands he runs from the table and up to his room. 

“I'm so sorry about that,” Michael apologizes, breathless.

“It’s okay, I'm glad she's okay with it, though. Uh, can I tell my parents?” Tom sounds—shy. 

“Uh of course, Tom,” Michael answers. He knows how terrible this all must be for Tom. His life is basically over.

“I know you don't want this,” he says at the same time Tom's asking, “are you mad at me?”

“What?” They both say.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I… You know. Impregnated you,” Tom laughs awkwardly.

Michael winces. “Can we not use the ‘P’ word. It makes it too real.”

“It's pretty fucking real, Latts,” Tom says, a little irritated. “Look, I know this sucks. But you can't avoid me forever, if you don't want to have a kid that's completely understandable, but don't you think it's a little unreasonable to be mad at me?”

Now, people have told Michael he's slow. But, he's confused as hell right now and he has every right to be.

“Okay one, I'm not mad at you for imp- knocking me up. I'm not mad at you at all. Two, I never said I didn't want a kid. I'm giving you space! I know you're young and you have a huge future ahead of you, I can't imagine what it's like to know you're gonna be tied down with a guy like me because you forgot to wear a rubber that one time. I'm just doing what I can to make this easier,” Michael says. 

“What the fuck,” is all Tom says after a minute of silence.

“Look Tom, I gotta get back to dinner. I'll call you if anything,” Michael says then hangs up.

He's not actually hungry, he's upset because he just poured his heart out to Willy and he had nothing to say, how embarrassing. And he's tired because of the flight and the kid growing inside of him. He ends up falling asleep on top of the covers of his bed. 

\--

Michael spends his summer sleeping, catching up with his friends, gaining weight and visiting his doctor. Tom calls a couple times but stops after the month of May. He goes to his first ultrasound in July to check that the baby's growing normally. He emails Tom a picture and all he gets is a ‘Thanks – Tom’. He seems pretty enthusiastic.

He's definitely not ready to go back to Washington because that's when everything's gonna blow up. He has a bump instead of his abs so he can't really hide it from André, and there goes his 2015-16 season. The idea of having to tell Trotz and his teammates is terrifying.

Oh, and so is the thought of sleeping in the same bed with his kid’s father and boyfriend if Tom doesn't actually hate him at the moment. 

He's not quite sure what he did, though.

\--

Unfortunately, he's not the first person back at the apartment when he gets back to Washington. He's kinda pissed about that. Being five months pregnant and sitting on a plane is actually fucking uncomfortable and he had to pee the whole flight.

André leans over the couch and smiles. He can see André examining the differences in Michael's body and fixating on his tummy. “Oh. This why you run to the toilet so much?” He says after greetings.

“Yeah,” Michael answers.

“Congratulations. We should have party,” André is looking overly excited about this. 

“Ah, I want these four months I have left to be as quiet as possible to be honest. I'm actually more cranky than ever,” Michael tries. People say he's a cranky guy so maybe, André will drop it after he realizes this.

“It okay! All pregnant people cranky,” André assures him. “I’ll do anything for my nephew, niece, whatever.”

And, okay. Michael wasn't expecting that. It kind of makes him wanna cry but he won't do that until 4 am.

He's about to reply when the front door opens, revealing Tom and a bunch of bags. Michael tries his best to cover his belly in hopes Tom won't see him. He used to think those people who'd get insecure over the fact that the they're having a child were ridiculous, but now he _totally_ gets it.

Tom's walking through the house and pauses when he sees Michael. “Uh, hey.”

“Hi.”

“I didn't know you were coming early.”

Michael hums. “I wanted to speak to Coach as soon as possible.”

“Cool. I'm gonna go unpack and then take a nap.” And then Tom's gone in a flash to their room. 

“I miss something?” André asks, startling Michael. He totally forgot he was there.

“No? What would you have missed?”

“You and Tom…not?”

“Yes. No. I don't know. It's complicated?” Michael tries. 

“Okay. I go out now. Give you privacy.” André hops off the couch taking his sweater with him. He stops in front of Michael and touches his belly. It would be awkward, but it's Burky. 

“Baby say he wants mom and dad to stop fighting. I say this too,” André whispers. 

“Shut up,” Michael mumbles, blushing. “Go out and don't come back.”

\--

When Michael enters their room, Tom's not in the shower like he expects, he's sitting on the bed looking into his hands.

“Look, Tom,” Michael starts, but Tom's shaking his head.

“How could you say that?” Tom asks.

“Say what?”

“That I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“I didn't say—“ 

“You might as well have! You didn't even give me a chance to talk the last time we talked. You just—spoke for me. That wasn't fair, Mike.” Tom sounds really hurt and that's killing Michael.

“I'm..I’m scared you're gonna realize later that you can do better than me and I'm just giving you space to think.”

“Don't do that for me. You can't do that. We're having a baby it doesn't matter if I don't wanna be with you or not you can't shut me out from my kid’s life.”

“I didn't shut you out at all,”

“You barely texted me, called me or emailed me. You didn't invite me to your house all summer!”

Michael deflates. Tom's right, he's been avoiding Tom severely since he left the country.

“You're right,” he says. “I'm sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, it was pretty stupid to do when I'm with child. I'm just letting you know, you can—“ 

“Mike. I love you! I thought you knew this. I talk about having kids with you all the time. Yeah, I’d prefer not to have a kid at 21, but shit happens. I'm happy that I'm having this kid with you. I want to grow old with you, you have to know that by now. Don't you?” Tom's standing up now. He's kind of in Michael's space. He's got nowhere to look but Tom's eyes. 

“I know I'm such an idiot. I’m just always thinking worst case scenarios. I'm sorry. I love you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Shut up,” Michael laughs. “Anyway, did I interrupt you from your nap?”

“No, I actually slept on the plane. I was trying to go for the nonchalant thing. It didn't last when you came in the room though,” Tom says, looking sheepish. 

Michael laughs at that. “You're so overdramatic.” 

“Yeah, well,” Tom shrugs then grins. “Are you in the mood for makeup sex? Or is the kid gonna get in the way?”

“Get your clothes off,” Michael says smiling.

\--

Telling coach is not as bad as Michael was predicting.

“We have something to tell you,” Michael starts. He's thankful this is over the phone.

“We? Wilso is there? You two getting married?” Trotz jokes.

“Not quite,” Tom says, laughing nervously.

“Go on,” Trotz says now, sounding serious.

“I, um. I'm kind of pregnant?” Michael mumbles. Who knew this would be so hard to say.

“What do you mean kind of?” Trotz asks. Michael can't read his voice at all.

“Uh, definitely pregnant. 5 months,” Michael nods even though he and Tom are the only ones in the room.

“…What the hell were you kids thinking?” Is Trotz’s reaction. 

“It's not like we planned it. It just happened,” Mike says defensively. He's kind of tired of people thinking they'd do something stupid like start a family in their early twenties.

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Trotz replies. Michael can hear him sigh through the phone. “Called your agents? Told your family? The team?”

“Yes, yes and no,” Tom answers. 

“Well that part’s up to you. I gotta go. Good luck,”

\--

The team goes out for a dinner at the end of August. Michael makes sure to wear the biggest sweater he has even though it's like 90 degrees outside. 

The guys are rattling off their drink orders when Michael tries to subtly ask for iced tea.

“No brew for you for you Lattsy?” Fehr asks.

Michael is about confirm this when Tom interrupts cheerily, “No alcohol when you're pregnant. We don't want fetal alcohol syndrome.”

It's apparently loud enough to make the whole table go quiet and turn towards Michael and Tom.

“What?” Nicky chokes out.

“Uh, yeah. I'm actually five months along,” Michael answers.

He feels Wardo thump him hard on the back. “Congratulations to our little boys. They're not so little anymore!”

That, thankfully, erupts an applause. 

“You okay?” Wardo leans in whispering.

“Kinda wanted to shit my pants. Wasn't expecting Willy to say that, if I'm being honest,” Michael replies, resting his head on Wardo’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I was shocked too! You went ghost on me this summer, eh?” Wardo says.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I've been kinda avoiding everything Washington,” Michael says, guiltily.

Wardo pats his head and takes a sip of his beer.

\--

The transition from August to September is awful. They have to explain to the media why Michael isn't gonna be playing this season, with his bump out on full display for good publicity, and then awkwardly avoid questions about marriage and why they're starting a family so young.

PR thinks it's a great idea for him and Tom to go out and be romantic but Michael will stay inside as long as he has to.

There's dumb articles that always come up when a player is doing something not hockey related. Stuff about Tom being too young – which Michael agrees with – being too reckless, and whether or not Michael's ever gonna come back after his pregnancy. Whatever they can muster up is in the news.

Tom, though. The interviews he gives with a bright smile talking about how great it is that he's going to be a dad make it worth it.

\--

They've started looking online for things for the nursery. Tom doesn't wanna know the gender of the baby so they're gonna have to wait until the birth. Which Michael is totally fine with but if he has to hear Tom nagging in his ear about ‘gender neutral colours’ he's gonna scream.

They've also found a new house for André to move into once the season’s started. Michael felt kind of bad just kicking him out, but André assured them it was completely okay and they couldn't be a proper family if he's in the way.

Now, Michael knew going into the third trimester, he'd get big. But he kind of hates it. He _really_ hates it. His back is hurting all the time now and it's been harder to walk around the house without his ankles killing him. He'd very much prefer to be carried around if he could. 

Tom thinks it's funny when he says such, which is kind of annoying, Michael's carrying his kid.

\--

Washington’s first game of the season is an away game, which Michael hates because he can't go anywhere. He's been kind of upset that he can't really do anything so he packs Tom's bags for him the night before, folding everything neatly which isn't weird for normal people, but Mike is Mike. His mom says it’s paternal things that are making him feel like he needs to be responsible of things. He's new to this, so he’ll take it. 

“Hey, if you win, we should do something special,” Michael tells Tom.

“Like what?” Tom asks. He's lying on the couch with Michael, one hand wrapped around his shoulder the other one resting on his belly. 

“I dunno. The doctor says this is a great time to have sex, since we’ll miss out on it a lot while we're busy raising a baby and shit,” Michael says, casually. 

Tom bursts out laughing and Michael frowns. “What?” He asks, annoyed.

“We're gonna be those people,” Tom says. “That have to schedule sex and bed times. We're getting old while we're still young.”

“Maybe you should've thought about this before,” Michael grumbles.

“Shhh,” Tom shushes Michael by putting his index finger on Michael's lips. “It's too late now, anyway.”

 _It really is_.

\--

Mike kisses Tom twice on the lips and once on the nose before he leaves for his flight. He almost cries too, as if his affection wasn't enough of an embarrassment. 

“Call me when you get to the hotel,” Michael tells him. Tom nods and gives Michael one last peck on the cheek.

Man, Michael hates this. It's obviously not as bad as an injury because there's a kid coming out of this, but right now it feels like it is.

Tom does indeed call him and hums quietly while listening to Michael chat away about the things he did over the course of two hours – eat and look at baby clothes.

“Whaddya think about Jaylin?” Tom interrupts Michael's babbling, which quite frankly is rude. 

“Jaylin…” 

“For the kid. It's cool right? Ovi said it was, at least,” Tom says. He sounds nervous and Michael would take advantage of that but he doesn't want Tom hanging up on him.

“That's cute, I like it,” is what he ends up thinking.

“Yeah?” Tom asks, hopeful.

“Of course,” Michael can't help but smile. “This is making me excited but also really fucking terrified.”

“Two more months, can you believe it?” Tom agrees. “Look, babe. I gotta go but I'll call you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

\--

Kicking is cute the first time. It's like the baby is trying to let you know, hey! I'm here. That's cute. What's not cute being woken up from said kicking. It actually hurts and is super uncomfortable, as if not sleeping on your back isn't uncomfortable enough.

Michael's currently having a conversation with his stomach right now. He was in the middle of a nice dream. 

“Look, I get you want attention. But it's dark. I didn’t get my afternoon nap yesterday because I had to set up your nursery by myself,” Michael says. He really hopes this kid is used to his voice by now. 

Then, there's another kick.

“Are you hungry, or something?” Michael asks. “I'm not, so there's no way you can be hungry.”

“Oh I know,” Michael continues when there's no response (obviously). “You miss your dad? I miss him too. This must be how the wives feel. It's terrible.”

He pats his belly in hopes this is comforting for the baby or something. He googled this.

He starts when there's a sound of someone choking by the door. It's Tom with his bag slung on his shoulders.

“Hi,” Michael says, flushing.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt that serious conversation you're having over there,” Tom jokes.

“I just. Jaylin started kicking yesterday and apparently doesn't stop even if I'm sleeping,” Michael says.

Tom mouths the name in confusion and then his eyes widen. “Is it, uh working? The talking?”

“Maybe. I don't feel any movement,” Michael says, thoughtful. “Or it might be because you're talking.”

Now Tom is really choking. He moves swiftly from the door to the spot beside Michael on the bed. He chews on his bottom lip nervously.

“Do you think…”

“Do I think, what?”

“Do you think the baby recognizes my voice?” Tom asks. Uncertainty is something Michael has never seen on him.

“Definitely,” Michael says. “Maybe you should let ‘em know you're here.”

Tom raises his hands hesitantly and holds them in the air without knowing what to do. Michael grabs his hands and places them on his stomach. And he feels the kid moving, again. Michael groans.

“Oh,” Tom says, dumbly. 

“Jaylin says hi,” Michael grins. 

Tom looks like he can't believe this is happening right now and looks like he wants to cry. Honestly, sleep isn't nowhere near as important than this moment he's having with his boyfriend. He surges forward to kiss Tom, almost knocking him off the edge of the bed.

Showers of I love you fill the room. 

\--

Michael’s a hockey player so he appreciates good hockey. He appreciates his team playing good hockey. He especially appreciates his boyfriend playing good hockey. 

The teams on a 4 game road trip in Canada and Michael's sitting there on the couch watching them all. He usually hates watching games ‘cause he gets all sad watching them knowing he can't play. But he's super glad he's watched these games.

They win all four games and Tom gets 6 points. Michael kind of wants to call him but he knows the guys are probably out celebrating.

Instead he texts Tom: _good job, babe can't wait until you come home_

He gets a call two hours later, though he's surprised he gets one at all.

“Hello?” 

“Babe!” Tom's definitely drunk.

“Hey,” Michael says. “You having fun?”

“Yeah, it'd be better with you though.”

“I bet.”

“Can't wait to come home to you,”

“Me too. I hate it when you're gone.”

“Yeah. We're usually together so much that I don't have to jerk off anymore.”

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

“You're really drunk and I’d rather continue this when you're home and completely sober.”

“Latts,” Tom says, petulant. “Fine. I love you, I'll be home soon.”

“Love you too, loser.”

He hangs up and stands up to stretch out the five hours he wasted on the couch. A shower sounds nice right now.

\--

Michael would've been pacing around the house waiting for Tom to come home if it didn't hurt his ankles so much.

When Tom comes home, Michael waddles over to him and pushes him against the door. The chaste kiss Tom gives him turns dirty very fast.

“6 points, eh?” Michael says, huskily.

“Yeah,” Tom replies, breathily. “All for you.”

“Good,” Michael says, pressing a kiss to Tom's jaw and sinking to his knees.

\--

The weekend after, they invite André, Backy, Wardo and Fehr over for dinner. It's a really good dinner coming home after a 4 game win.

“Man, what a road trip just before Thanksgiving break, huh?” Eric says. 

“Definitely, what a good job by Willy though,” Wardo adds. “Latts, you guys decide if you’re ever gonna have more kids? Tom's on fire.”

“Trust me, _I know_ ,” Michael grins.

“Whoa there,” Wardo says. “All I know is that you're having a kid, I don't want anymore details.”

“No one was planning on giving you any,” Tom mutters, cheeks red. 

“Aw, so sweet how shy he is about this,” Backy smiles.

Michael rolls his eyes. This is never gonna get old.

\--

It's about a week before their scheduled c-section and Christmas are and Michael is kind of glad it happened then.

He wakes up with pain shooting across his lower abdomen and back. He checks the time and it's only 4 am. Tom once again is dead to the world but Michael really doesn't think they have to time to patiently wake Tom up. 

“Tom,” Michael says, patting Tom's cheek. “Get the _fuck_ up.”

Tom groans and rolls over to his side. “No.”

“Your baby is coming,” Michael says, impatiently.

The little time it takes Tom to open his eyes and hop out of bed in search of yesterday's jeans is fascinating. Michael should use that line often.

“You need clothes?” Tom asks.

“No, I'm just gonna go in my pyjamas. They're gonna make me change anyway,” Michael shrugs.

Tom packs clothes anyway, which is smart. Michael can't really think right now he's in so much pain.

“I don't think I can walk,” Michael says.

“C'mon, Latts,” Tom says encouragingly. “You can walk to the car, when we get to the hospital you'll get a wheelchair. I'll hold your hand.”

Michael knows Tom's teasing him but he grabs onto Tom's free arm, nonetheless. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

\--

It's weird being awake during your own surgery. Tom's there too, which is also weird. He's holding onto Tom's hands for support but he thinks he's supporting Tom more than Tom's supporting him. He looks about thirty seconds away from passing out in the OR. 

“Do you need a chair, sir?” A nurse asks and Tom nods inaudibly.

“Wow,” Michael snorts as the nurse gives Tom a chair to sit in. “I'm the one who's being operated on and you're—“ 

He's cut off by a loud cry and all the other doctors cheering. “It's a girl!” Someone says. Michael doesn't really care. He gets a glimpse of his daughter— _his daughter_ , and then she's being carried away to be cleaned up. 

“Holy shit,” Tom says. Michael would be saying the same thing if he could talk. 

“Mr. Wilson?” The doctor calls. “Would you like to take your daughter?”

“I—“ Tom says, looking like a fish out of water.

“Go!” Michael almost shouts. He's getting more anxious by the minute about that fact that his kid’s in the room and he can't see her.

Tom's walking over, now with a bundle of pink and he's smiling so wide that Michael thinks his face might break. He passes her to Michael and kisses the side of his face.

“She's beautiful isn't she?” Tom asks.

“Well sure,” Michael says. “As far as hairless babies go.”

“You think there'd be a time where your sarcasm goes away.”

“Hi, Jaylin,” Michael greets. “Welcome home.”

\--

Jaylin doesn't do much. She's only three months old, though. She has a blonde tuft of hair in the middle of her head and Tom's weird nose. She's finally sleeping through the night, which is good because Michael can't be tired while getting back into shape. Tom says she's gonna be a hockey player from the way she's able to tug meanly on Tom's hair, but Michael just thinks that's a sign that Tom needs to seriously get a haircut. Their nanny says that Jaylin’s the happiest 3 month old she's ever met. His brother Jim keeps saying how shocked he is about Jaylin actually being cute. Michael ignores that one. Tom posts a shit ton of pictures of Michael sleeping with Jaylin and Michael will get him back one day--he's got tons of photos, if he’ll ever get over the possessiveness he has over his daughter and boyfriend. Tom kind of hates bringing Jaylin around to the team ‘cause they're super loud and he thinks she's gonna absorb shit. Michael agrees just so Tom doesn't feel bad about being a first time father. 

They've been looking for houses, because Jaylin needs space for when she gets older and they feel as if houses are more domestic. Michael gets teased when he says the last part aloud --he's with Wardo and Ovi, so. Old people.

It's whatever though, because they finally get that nice house with 5 bedrooms and a huge ass backyard that Tom's been dreaming about for Jaylin -- and _maybe_ her other siblings -- to run around in.

While he's happy he'll get back to playing by – knock on wood – the time playoffs roll around, he's gonna miss Jaylin during the day. His mom says it's not weird so he's not ashamed.

Point is, Michael's super fucking happy with the way his life is turning out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my fic :-)


End file.
